


present, past.

by maraudertimes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Horror/Dark, Mystery, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Strong Violence, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7890055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudertimes/pseuds/maraudertimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Find me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	present, past.

He walks through the broken house, avoiding the smashed glass as best he can but it is everywhere. Photographs have been blasted off the walls, flowers lay strewn about everywhere, wilting because their vases have long since been destroyed. Harry Potter has been an auror for six years now, going onto seven, but never has he seen carnage this horrible. Blood splatters the walls, the air stinks of death and decay. He takes a step into the kitchen and the floorboards creak.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
_She was lying in bed reading as she normally did at this hour, the faint light from her wand illuminating the pages of Jane Austen. She could go a thousand years without ever finding a book as good as Pride and Prejudice, she’s certain of it, and as she devoured the words she felt her mind starting to shut down. She dog-eared her page and set the book down on her bedside table, flicking her wand once to shut off the light emanating from it. She snuggled into bed, her thick duvet keeping her warm when she heard the floorboards downstairs creak._   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
He can see that she kept a relatively clean house, save for the chaos of the attack. Moldy bread remains in her fruit basket, an overripe banana on the floor where it must’ve gotten thrown. Three of the cupboard doors have been ripped off their hinges and lie in shambles all over the room. Decorative plates that no doubt used to be placed on the dining table were now just ceramic pieces dotting the kitchen floor tiles with bright blue. Cereal boxes are ripped to shreds, food strewn about everywhere.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
_She held her wand in front of her, her breath shallow and quick. The hallways are dark and as she crept down her staircase she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. There was a soft light emanating from her kitchen, as if something was rummaging through her fridge. The noise of crunching made its way to her, confirming her suspicion that something was in her home. She stepped off the final stair and felt a soft crunch beneath her foot. A ravage cereal box lay next to the staircase, its remains strewn about everywhere._   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
He walks out of the kitchen and follows the trail of blood. It is smeared on the walls and on photographs that have fallen. He picks one up at the bottom of the staircase and stares at the odd woman, her eyes shining through the droplet of red that covers her face and the shattered glass. She was a very beautiful woman. Harry continues to walk up the stairs, passing by a large dent in the wall as the staircase turns as he continues to search for her.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
_She tiptoed towards the kitchen, wand raised and her mind racing. Never had she had an intruder in her home, but she would deal with it the way she always dealt with things; with power and forcefulness. She crept through the doorway and saw a strange figure illuminated by the fridge light. Monstrous hind legs covered in coarse fur glinted and the terrifying sound of teeth ripping into flesh made her clench her teeth together. A tear fell from her eye as she realized what exactly was in her home, and as is hit the floor the monster stiffened._   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
He opens the first door on his right and looks inside to see a room filled with paintings. He takes a few moments and marvels at the extraordinary work before closing the door and continuing on. He remains on the blood path, opening the second door to find only a linen closet. As he reaches the last door he takes a deep breath, noticing the splintered wood and the crooked hinges. He steps inside and illuminates his wand.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
_Werewolves have extraordinary hearing, she remembered reading in textbooks, courtesy of their canine heritage. The creature turned to look at her, the blood of her uncooked holiday turkey dripping down her chin. She screamed and ran back towards the stairs, scrambling up them as she turned and fired off three hexes in succession. The monster grunted and raced after her. She felt a sharp pain as a claw nicked her upper thigh, spraying blood as she continued up the stairs while the creature ran into the wall due to its own momentum._   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Blood is everywhere and the smell of death permeates the air. He feels his stomach turn but continues on. Although the carnage is terrible it is not what he is looking for. He steps over a dark patch on the carpet, trying to forget what it was. The frayed edges of rips and gashes are gnarled and covered in dirt. He looks away and feels his stomach fill with dread as he looks upon the absolutely shredded door that led to what should have been a pristine bathroom.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
_She ran into her room and shut the door, casting protective charms as fast as she could. The door suddenly shook and the monster howled, the gash in her leg only contributing to the tears that she wept. She limped over to the bathroom, her shaking hands only barely able to twist the doorknob and open the door. She slammed it shut, screaming in terror as she heard splintering of wood from the next room. She heard the harsh breaths of the monster as it neared her hideaway, curling up in the shower, under the light of the full moon, as if to hide. Suddenly the bathroom door shuddered and the monster roared. She screamed._   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
It was the most vulgar scene he has ever witnessed. Blood and carnage is everywhere. The stench of decay pulverizes his nose and he takes a moment to calm his stomach before stepping forward. The shower curtain is shredded to pieces, the formally white tile caulking rusty brown with blood. And in the middle of it, the ravaged remains of Piper Cole.

**Author's Note:**

> A.N.: Hey guys, hope you liked it! This was written for the Scribble or Scream Gryffindor Writing Competition, and although the cap is 1000 words, this story only has 995 by my count, so it just passes. Also, tell me what you think and Happy Halloween! :)


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